A Fate Worse than Death
by spankingfemfatale
Summary: Based at the very end of the movie the Italian Job where Steve gets hauled away by the Russian mafia, and they decide there are better uses for him than death. WARNING! Dark fic dealing with nonconsensual acts like rape, enslavement, and LOTS OF SPANKING!
1. Check Mate

(Huge WARNING! Okay, before reading this fic, please know that it will be very dark dealing with nonconsensual acts like rape, enslavement, mild physical torture, and the breaking of a person's will. It'll be gritty and mean exploring a nastier side of my sexuality by using a pretty vile person (Steve from the Italian Job) to enact these atrocities on, so if this will offend you, please click your back button now! You have been warned!)

(Are you still there? :P Okay, a little summary: This story takes place directly after the end of the movie The Italian Job where Charlie, Stella, Left Ear, Lyle, and Handsome Rob have gotten their gold back from Steve after making a deal with Moscov to hand over his cousin Yven's killer; who happens to be Steve. The scene breaks with Steve asking Moscov, "You're not going to shoot me are you?" And Moscov replies, "Oh no; I'm not going to shoot you. I'm going to take you back to my workplace. There are many machines I want to show you." Steve on the verge of passing out is then carted off by the Russian Mafia. And that is where my story takes off from. So without further ado…)

Steve's heart raced as he stuttered out, "Wait! Please just... just give me a chance to explain. It didn't go down like you think. I swear to you that Yevn's death was a mistake. I was..." he was cut off as one of Moscov's flunkies landed a quick fist into his gut. Steve groaned as his body buckled involuntarily from the force of the sudden blow.

Moscov's men deftly swarmed around him to tie his hands roughly behind his back and shove a burlap sack over his head. His feet slipped on the smooth railroad gravel stones as he struggled, kicked, and stomped in a desperate attempt to free himself from his captors that pushed him violently and blindly forward.

He felt sick; he was going to die at the hands of these men, and they weren't going to just shoot him, they'd already stated that. No, these men's bread and butter was violence. Moscov was a well-known man in the underworld, and no one gave him an odd look without expecting to suffer the consequences. Steve knew he would be no different. He was shoved roughly into a vehicle to be pinned between two very large men leaving him unmovable.

He wanted to cry, but he only felt a cold numbness run in waves down his spine and into his hands and feet. His body shivered from cold sweats brought on by the absolute terror of what would inevitably follow this car ride. He imagined getting every bone broken in his body, perhaps they would then tie him into a junked car to get crushed into a small cubic ball to never be seen or thought of again. Either way, it promised to be excruciating and lead to the end of his life, as he knew it.

He could hear them speaking back and forth in Russian where every now and again a very unsettling eruption of laughter was shared amongst the vehicle's occupants. Steve thought bitterly, 'Great, the last moments of my life will be spent not even being able to comprehend what the hell my murders are saying while they torture the life out of me.' The car ride took over an hour, and by the time they had arrived at their destination Steve had lulled himself into a stupor as he'd imagined a million and one horrible ends and a million things to say in his defense. He doubted anything he could say would really matter now anyway, but it wasn't until the car turned off of the pavement and onto a graveled roadway did his trembling begin.

A few minutes later the car rolled to a stop and he was yanked none too gently from the car. His legs were like rubber partly from nerves and partly from loss of circulation; they collapsed on their own onto the now hot dirt, and he sat on his knees in a petrified slump. The burlap sack that had been placed over his head was then yanked off, and Steve's eyes squinted in the now harsh sunlight. He was grateful the bag had been removed as his face was drenched in sweat and the slight breeze gave him one moment of relief before a kick from his left landed in his side followed by another kick to his gut. Harsh words spoken in broken English barked out the command, 'Get up dog!'

Steve coughed the pain rising up in his side as he scrambled up to his feet. He was dragged once more by a meaty paw looped and locked around each elbow and a leading hand on each shoulder. He was lead straight forward into a small building the size of a double-wide trailer.

The inside of the building looked like a typical office with off-white walls and thin easily vacuumed carpet. A wide oaken desk resided in the middle of the room sparsely covered with only a large appointment calendar and a pen holder holding a handful of pens, a metal ruler, and other miscellaneous office supplies. A fine leather-backed executive chair sat behind the desk exuding its authority of position, and behind it a more practical work desk with filing cabinets sat against the wall housing a computer.

A long black leather sofa stretched along the wall opposite the door, and on the couch sat a finely dressed middle-aged woman with dark chestnut hair tied into a tight bun, a white-collared dress shirt, and a knee length black skirt that showed her legs off nicely. She had thin rimmed black glasses that magnified her crystal blue eyes that had flicked up from the appointment book she'd been busy writing in when they had entered.

The woman's eyes drifted up to meet Steve's, and as his locked with hers the urge for self preservation kicked in, and he called out to her, "Lady! You got to help me! These guys are going to kill me!"

The men hauling him forward threw him down into the middle of the floor. Moscov entered, and one of his many goons closed and locked the door behind them.

The woman had not moved or given any form of facial change other than amused curiosity up until this point. Her eyes left Steve, and traveled to the right to meet Moscov's. They exchanged a familiar smile as she closed her appointment book and rose off the couch embracing him in a warm hug as she exclaimed, "Cousin!"

Steve's mouth parted as this new revelation left him speechless. His eyes drifted to the floor in despair; there would be no rescue from this fate; she was one of them.

Moscov gave the woman a big toothy grin pulling her back to look at her as he replied, "Nadia! I did not think you would have gotten to town so early! How was your flight?"

Nadia responded, "Long cousin, long. Is this him?" She turned from Moscov to glare down at Steve whose eyes left the floor to look back at her. She spat, "Is this the man who killed my brother Yven?"

Steve shook his head rebutting, "No! It wasn't like that! I swear to you; you've got the wrong guy; I've been set up!" Steve hoping to regain some kind of ground continued to rattle off, "They just wanted my gold, so they told you I killed Yven, but the truth of the matter is, like I said earlier, Yven was already dead when I found him." Steve tried to remain calm even though his insides felt like jelly.

Nadia looked down at Moscov's metal-lined briefcase asking, "Are they in there?" Moscov bent down to unclick the lock and open the case. Inside was six neatly packed gold bricks. Nadia leaned down to take one out and examined the Palestinian dancer depicted on its carved surface.

She turned her now very cold eyes back to Steve lifting up the brick for him to see as she remarked, "This? This was your gold?"

Steve was unsure of where the conversation was going as his eyes darted back and forth between Nadia, Moscov, and the gold brick. He answered hesitantly, "Yea. Yea, that's my gold."

Nadia placed the brick back into the case striding back over to Steve with three fluid steps. She placed one hand on her hip and leaned down so that they were face to face as she growled, "This gold of yours, I have moved it for the past four months. My brother, Yven, was not a stupid man; simple yes, but not stupid. If it was not you who killed him, then why would the only money stolen be the money I sent him for the gold exchange? No hand guns, no drugs, not even his safe, nothing else was taken. There was no gold, and there was no money for the gold. Now let me ask you; where would this money go?"

Steve's face paled and his eyes glazed over. He tried to think of something to say in his defense, but his hesitation was all she needed as she leaned her face away from his and slapped him hard across the cheek. Her hand was hard as steel and precise in its strike like a cobra's bite as she growled, "If I didn't wish to hear your screams, I would cut your lying tongue out of your mouth myself."

Steve turned back to face her eyes squinting hatefully. In his mind, this was all a game for them to make him squirm. He decided, if he was going to die, he'd prefer it to be quickly. He spat, "You can hit me all you want sweetheart; it's not going to bring Yven back. You want me to say I killed him? Fine. I killed him. I shot him, I took my gold back, and then I took your money."

She stared at Steve a moment before walking behind him. He tensed nervously awaiting her response to his blunt admission. She spoke to one of Moscov's men in Russian telling him to cut Steve's wrists free. The goon looked to Moscov for reassurance and after getting a nod of approval; he followed through with the command.

Steve felt his hands get wrenched up in the air, and he gasped expecting his elbows to be popped out of their sockets at any moment. He was pleasantly surprised to find his wrists had been freed. He rubbed the rope burns grateful for the small freedom and wondering what it meant. A sly smile made its way across his face as he assumed that she might have actually believed that he hadn't killed Yven.

A smirk played across her face looking down at his smug face as she rumbled, "Such insolence for a coward. You need to learn your place. Give me your belt."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he asked, "What?"

She held out her arm as she stated more firmly, "Your belt. Give it to me now."

Steve looked back and forth between Moscov and Nadia fidgeting to undue his belt and trying to understand what she could want with his belt after cutting his hands free. He had a feeling that he wouldn't have too long of a wait to find out.


	2. Knocked Down a Peg

Nadia watched Steve clumsily undo the belt around his waist as he glanced back up at her warily. He pulled the thick supple leather belt out from his pants folding it in half and looked down at it as if studying it before lifting it up for her to take it from him. Her glare was icy, and as she took it from him, he flinched squinting his eyes shut involuntarily half expecting her to whip it across his face. When the blow didn't come, he cautiously opened his eyes and ventured to look back up at her.

Her smile broadened as she said flatly, "I'm going to punish you for your smugness and for lying to me. And you are going to prepare yourself for me to do so."

His eyes widened in surprise as he wondered what 'preparing himself' would entail. What ever it was, he didn't plan to willingly do it as he countered, "Listen sister, if you're going to torture me, I sure as hell don't plan to make it easy for you."

Moscov snapped his fingers, and the beefy man standing closest to Steve grabbed a handful of his hair and his bicep yanking him roughly to his feet and awaited instruction from Nadia.

Nadia motioned towards the desk, and Steve's captor hauled him towards the desk and threw him across it. Steve grunted on impact instinctively pushing to get up again, but the man holding him down had leverage and strength, and within moments the goon's counterpart had grabbed the bicep of Steve's other arm and cinched it up into the small of his back. Steve yowled in pain as he growled out, "What the..."

The words died in his throat as a new panic took a hold of him. The man that had had a hold of his hair previously now had that same hand on the waistband of his pants as a dawning realization came over Steve as to what was about to take place. He yelled out in surprise, "Hey! Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" The man didn't, and with one swift tug his pants came down along with his boxers.

Steve gasped indignantly as he yelled out, "You... you can't be serious?! I mean... come on?"

Nadia moved up behind him and responded with a quick harsh slap with his own belt. Steve's eyes bulged on contact squalling at the bite the leather had made, "Aw...OW! God damn it!"

Nadia did not stop there continuing to let the belt fly. Steve tried desperately to wiggle free squealing and gasping at each new stroke. After four had fallen, and he'd realized he wasn't going to budge, he kicked his feet up to block the flow of swats as he shouted trying to reason with her, "Alright, alright! What do you want me to say? I'm sorry? Please, just stop! This, this is ridiculous...I'm an adult for Christ's sake, you can't... you can't spank me!" He hoped he sounded more assured out loud than he did in his head. The pain was one thing, but this? This was down right humiliating!

He would have rather she'd slapped him across the face with his belt like he'd first assumed or his back which seemed more logical and manly to take. Instead, he had had his pants pulled down and was getting spanked like a mouthy little brat, and that stung more than his ass, it stung his pride. He'd fought his whole life to be on top, and thought he'd achieved that. He had helped pull off one of the greatest gold heists to date and then had managed to take that gold all for himself building an empire with it. Like a melting snowflake, that was all gone now. He had absolutely no control now, and it was killing him.

Nadia replied crisply, "Remove your feet. You've already made this worse for yourself; do not make it even more worse."

Steve snapped his head around a look of shocked wonderment played across his face as he thought, 'Worse? How can she make this more worse?' He was conflicted and terrified. He didn't want to make himself readily available for her to go back to whipping him, but he also knew that it wasn't going to get any better. He turned back to face the desktop trying to control his breathing as he had started to suck in nervous breath after nervous breath before slowly lowering his shaky feet. Dropping his feet was one o the hardest things to do, but he was sure that if he didn't, Nadia would hold true to her word, and worse, was a mystery he really did not want to find out about.

As soon as his feet had remade contact with the floor, the men holding him grappled a foot around each ankle to insure that Steve would no longer be interrupting the flow of his punishment. The further restraint elicited a strangled whimper out of Steve who braced himself for the soon to be oncoming blows.

Nadia paused watching him tense and clench in anticipation before continuing with slow and fastidious strikes. The next ten strokes that followed, Steve had bucked and squirmed futilely to avoid the belt's ever present sting. Begging followed his screams as he had no pain tolerance and hoped there had to be some way to bargain with these people, "Please! SWAT! AaaaHh! Stop! I've got two more bars of gold stashed! SWAT! Ah! Ow! Ow! Ow! I'll give them to you if you'll just let me go!"

She grinned enjoying his reaction to her ministrations; his bravado shedding to unveil the scared little man he really was. She knew his type, his need for control often surpassing good judgment. Moscov's men had looked into Steve's past when Charlie and his crew had first made contact. Everything the man owned was meant to impress from his house shipped stone by stone from over seas to his big TV. Of his contacts they were able to interrogate, none considered him a friend and had even gone so far to say his arrogance and rudeness were characteristics he was most known for. He wanted to feel big, important, and to his knowledge he had fooled those who would see him into believing the hype that he had status and really was an important man, he'd even fooled himself. Nadia was more than happy to take these delusions away from him and then some.

Tears sprang into Steve's eyes as each humiliating painful lash brought about an overwhelming feeling of defeat. He cried out with every stroke breaking down and sobbing when the pain became too much to bare. He knew it would come to this, but he hated them seeing him fall apart in such an undignified fashion. If they had been pulling his fingernails out, he could feel justified in his bawling, but with a spanking it was also psychologically castrating. Nadia continued to drop the belt in even lines covering every inch of his exposed flesh until Steve was sure she'd flayed the skin right off his ass.

He'd become hoarse from his screaming, and Nadia stopped when she could see Steve's body laying limply across the desk with no further fight left in him. She walked around to the front of the desk, that same curiously amused look played across her features as she stared down at his crying and trembling form. He wouldn't look at her, couldn't look at her. His face lay, forehead on the desk, still sobbing into a puddle of his own tears, all his defiance momentarily curbed.

Nadia looked to the goons holding him and nodded. Taking her cue, the one who had tugged his pants down pulled them back up eliciting a pained hiss from Steve as his back arched from the discomfort. They both released their hold on his arms and backed away a few steps to await further instruction when needed. Steve remained still, terrified to make any sudden moves as Nadia leaned onto the desk and queried, "So now tell me, are you ready to listen and do as you're told?"

Steve slowly turned his watery red-rimmed eyes up at her, the expression on his face wounded. He didn't trust his voice and just nodded his acquiescence.

Her grin grew even wider as she said, "Good; now I will have you prepare yourself to be punished."

Steve's eyes widened eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he whined, "But... I thought..."

Nadia hushed him putting a finger to his lips, "Shh... do not think. That is obviously not one of your strengths otherwise you would not be in this position now."

Steve's face contorted into a pout as his eyes dropped back to the desktop his vision blurring over and his breath hitching in despair at knowing that he was about to have to endure more pain shortly.

Nadia gently ran her fingers through his disheveled hair and instructed, "I have to punish you for you earlier disobedience; if you would not have argued with me and had just done as you were told I would not have to teach you this lesson now."

He raised his eyes once more to look at her as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. He didn't want to endure any more torture as he whimpered, "Please... no more. Just kill me; I know you're not going to let me go. You wanted me to admit I killed Yven, and I did. I'm sorry; I just got scared when he'd mentioned the fact that he knew about the gold's origins. I... I thought he might sell me out."

Nadia moved her hand gently down the side of his face, and Steve closed his eyes tightly expecting another slap, but she merely settled her grasp around his chin to tilt his face upwards as she asked curiously, "Do you really wish to die?"

Steve took in a deep breath, he didn't want to die, but he knew that this wouldn't end any other way, and so he mumbled a strangled, "Yes."

Nadia smiled as she glanced back at Moscov and queried, "I give him a little spanking, and he already wishes to die. What do you think of this?"

Moscov chuckled moving around to her side and looked down at Steve inquisitively before remarking, "Not exactly the way I would go about breaking a man, but I must say that you never cease to impress me Nadia. With this one though, he was never much more than talk. A little fish in a big pond."

Steve kept his eyes closed listening to them talk. He hated them, hated what she had brought out of him, and hated himself for the fact that what Moscov had said was true. He was all talk; he always had been, and if not for betraying his friends, he wouldn't have the self acclaimed status he had recently attained. Not that it mattered now since he didn't figure he'd be leaving this room outside of a body bag.

Nadia studied Steve's face a moment before responding, "You would give up your life so easily just so that your suffering could end. I do not think you deserve even that much. But perhaps if you listen well enough, you may at least have a short reprieve. That is not the case right now though since you still have one more punishment to face. If I were you, I would try to be on your best behavior lest you earn yourself more. Now stand up." She released her hold on his chin and smiled evilly as she eyed the metal ruler sticking out of the desk's office supply holder.

More tears cascaded silently down Steve's cheeks as he sniffed back a sob and rose off the desk. He absently reached back to rub the sore flesh that radiated discomfort as he wondered what she had in store for him next.


	3. Test of Will

Nadia took a hold of the metal ruler and smacked it down on the side of the desk with a loud resounding crack that had Steve flinch nervously. She smiled a deadly smile down at it before walking around the desk stopping when she came to stand next to him before giving him the simple instruction, "Follow me."

She strode back across the office to sit in the middle of the couch; she straightened her skirt and looked up at him eyebrow arched with the clear expression meaning that he should already be beside her.

He glanced worriedly over at Moscov who sat down reclining in his fine leather chair before nodding his head towards Nadia and forewarning, "I would not keep the young lady waiting if I were you." Steve's pout deepened as his body lurched reluctantly forward taking small steps until he'd reached her. His hands clenched and unclenched nervously as he looked down at her.

Nadia patted her lap, "I want you across my knees."

Steve let out a small guttural moan of dismay thinking how very sore he already was and the thought of more of the same punishment made him feel nauseous. His voice cracked as he pleaded, "I... I know you want to hurt me for what I did, but please believe me when I say I'm really sorry." With the stone cold look she gave him, he didn't dare pause in his descent over her lap carefully stretching himself across her and the couch. His breathing came in short spurts as he tried to contain the fear that emanated off of him in a wave of tremors.

Nadia waited until he was in position settled in her lap before she told him, "Raise up, so that I may pull down your pants."

Steve choked back another sob as he did as he was told rising up rigidly on his elbows. Nadia relinquished him of his pants and boxers once more, and when she was finished he lowered himself back onto her lap. Her thighs were firm, her whole body was taut and her strength exuded in every move she made. Under any other circumstances, Steve would have been aroused.

As he lay back across her knee, Nadia admired his shapely body which was quite lithe and toned. His ass although quite splotchy and swollen, Nadia couldn't help but find attractive. She elicited a shiver out of Steve as she laid the cold metal ruler down neatly across his thighs, so that she could run her hand up the cleft of his ass. He clenched at her touch his quivering increasing in anticipation.

Nadia let her hand linger feeling the heat from Steve's previous spanking and gave the touched cheek a small squeeze to test its firmness. Steve clenched more tightly at this new invasion in an effort to shut out the touch only to receive a harsh slap and a disgruntled scolding, "Do not pull away from me; if I wish to explore your flesh I will, and you will let me or face consequences. Do you understand?"

Somehow this new element made things worse for Steve to deal with. He felt like an object, and choosing not to respond, Steve merely bowed his head in submission.

This was not satisfactory for Nadia as she swiftly picked up the ruler and gave him six lightening fast swats to which Steve arched his back squeezing the couch cushion for dear life as he whimpered a string of, "Ow, ow, ow!"

Nadia repeated, "Do you understand?"

Steve cried out a watery, "Yes! Yes; I understand!" When the swats finally ceased, Steve buried his face into the crook of his arm to try and put his mind somewhere else. It didn't help, but it allowed him to hide his shame from willingly allowing Nadia to do as she pleased to him without any capable protest.

Satisfied with his response, she laid the ruler back down on his thighs and went back to her earlier rubbing as she remarked to Moscov in Russian, "He is trainable and a sellable commodity cousin. I could find many viable buyers for him, and with an ego like his, I am certain such a fate would be far worse than the week or two of tortures you have planned for him. He should not get off that easily, I do not want his sufferings to end any time soon."

Moscov considered her observation; he wanted his turn to torture Steve for cold bloodily killing Yven, but she had a point. Although not involved in the slave trade like Nadia, he could see how a person like Steve would be not only fit the bill for a potential slave but also that such a life would be hell on earth for him. He responded in Russian, "You know this is not my way, but I see that you have taken quite an interest in our new friend's future. I still wish to exact my own two pounds of flesh from him, but I can play from your rule book so as not to damage your merchandise."

Nadia gave Moscov a greedy grin replying, "Thank you cousin, I assure you that revenge will be exacted in a prolonged and most memorable fashion for our little friend." She glanced back to his body that still trembled slightly but had relaxed a little since the two had started their conversation. He was grateful that for the time being he wasn't the center of attention. That was about to change. Nadia leaned over far enough that Steve could feel her breath on his neck as she stated, "Are you ready to be punished for your earlier disobedience Steve?"

Steve gulped hating to hear his name coupled with impending pain. He was terrified to either answer or not answer her question. He felt her hand sweep back down his backside leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. His heart froze in his chest as he felt her hand re-grip the metal ruler. He raised his head and squeaked out a nervous, "No…" He figured an answer verses no answer was better after the previous experience.

Nadia's amusement was evident in her voice as she responded, "No? You do realize that there is no negotiation in this; you will be punished, but I do appreciate your honesty."

Her free hand snaked around his waist and pulled him to her so that their hip bones met and he was secured in place from wiggling too far. Steve wanted to fight her, he wanted to try and jump off her lap and make a mad dash for the door, but he knew this would be futile, and worse, it would earn him a much harsher punishment than he was about to receive, so he instead let out his frustration in a weak sob as he clenched awaiting the ruler's kiss.

Nadia tapped the ruler against his tender flesh enjoying the increased shaking as Steve tried to prepare himself for the pain to come. She continued in that vein a couple taps before letting the ruler crack down again in a solid stream of whacks.

Steve grunted and whimpered with each impact made. The sting was immense on already tender flesh, and after several more swats had landed, his body began to twist involuntarily to avoid the swats. Nadia paused giving him a dark growled, "Steve; be still."

Steve whined, "I'm trying! It hurts so bad; I can't help it! I'm sorry!"

Nadia sighed, "Very well Steve, if you can not stay still then you may kick your legs, but do not interfere and do not remove your bottom from my lap. I do not want you hindering my ability to correct you properly." She tightened her grip on his hip and without another word resumed the spanking.

Steve had cried so much, he thought his tear ducts would have dried up by now, but this was not the case as Nadia continued to punish him. He let the pain travel down to his feet as they kicked in a mad attempt to help him keep some semblance of control over his own body. He was losing it, he couldn't take the pain any longer, and his hands shot back to cover the tortured flesh as he howled out, "No more! Please! I can't take it! I can't take it!" He sobbed into the cushion uncontrollably hoping for some form of pity.

Nadia paused examining the broken man before her, and she almost felt sorry for him… almost. She chided, "Steve, I will tell you once and only once; remove your hands and put them under you."

Steve moaned sorrowfully blinking through his tears to see Moscov's goons readying themselves to come to Nadia's aide, and that was not an avenue he wanted to take as he hesitantly removed his hands spitting out in quick succession, "I'm sorry; I'm sorry; I'm sorry! Please no more! Please!" He did as he was told sinking his hands under his chest as he sniffled pitifully.

Nadia gave him a moment to recover before responding, "Now Steve, I was about to stop, but you impeded my progress, and now I've forgotten where I was. But, I will tell you what, I will give you twenty more, and you will count them for me. As long as you do not interfere again, we will be finished, but I will warn you, if you do interrupt me, I will have you put back over the desk to start over from the top. Do you want that?"

Steve blubbered out a weak, "No." He felt light headed and sick at the thought of twenty more stinging swats, but it was a number, and a number meant a goal which meant an end, so Steve was more than willing to count them out.

Nadia brushed her hand across his ass again scrapping her nails lightly on his trembling flesh before bringing her hand up high in the air and then down again in a resounding slap.

Steve was shocked and relieved she was using her hand, but he didn't miss a beat as he squealed, "One!"

The swats continued, and as he counted them Steve realized just how the single act of announcing them gave him no avenue out by making him an active participant in his own punishment.

Nadia of course knew this, and enjoyed his struggle to keep up with her hand as she switched it up from fast to slow stopping at fifteen and announcing, "The last five will be with the ruler. I want to leave a lasting impression."

Steve said nothing as he bit his lip to control the bitter cries that had been pouring out of him since she'd started spanking him again. The ruler fell harder than before, and Steve counted them reluctantly. He praised God when he mouthed the number twenty collapsing in anguish relieved that it was finally over.

Nadia let him cry as she gently caressed the swollen globes on her lap. By this point Steve had sank into a state of apathy not caring what she was doing or who was watching him bawl his eyes out pathetically just as long as he didn't hurt anymore. And hurt he did. He'd never endured so much pain at once especially concentrated in one area. He knew he certainly wouldn't be sitting anytime soon.


	4. Layover

Moscov was impressed with Nadia's ability to so thoroughly control Steve and stated, "I will have to work to make my own mark on his memory after such a display."

Nadia smirked replying, "Somehow I doubt with your imagination you will have any problems."

Steve's crying was under control and had died into hitching breaths by this point. He had wanted to get out of this exposed position, but he was afraid to do anything now with out being instructed to do so. As he listened to Moscov and Nadia talk another wave of fear washed over him as he wondered what horrors would await him next.

Nadia gave Steve's ass a few taps as she instructed, "Pull up your pants Steve."

Steve had stiffened with the light slaps, but he was very relieved to hear that command as he rose onto his elbows and slowly pulled his pants up over the tortured flesh. He sucked in a painful breath as he did so. The fabric of his boxers chafed on every fold, but it felt better than his previous nakedness. He had assumed that her telling him to dress meant she wanted him off her lap, and he moved to sit up.

Before he did so, she grabbed his bicep in mid-motion asking, "Did I tell you that you could rise?"

His eyebrows arched in surprise as he shook his head responding almost inaudibly, "No."

She replied snappily, "Then I would suggest you put yourself back over my lap until instructed otherwise."

He dropped his gaze down to her lap and without question put himself back in position over her knees. He tensed hating the vulnerability of having to just lie like this as Nadia and Moscov continued to talk in their native Russian language. He sighed despairingly as he once more covered his face into his arms. He was extremely tired now from all the exertion and stress he'd just endured. His ass throbbed uncomfortably promising to do so for some time, and although he could fall asleep lying stretched out across this surprisingly comfortable leather couch, his fear wouldn't let him. Instead silent tears continued to fall as he thought about his life and how he'd managed to end up in such a precarious situation.

They talked for what seemed like hours in Steve's mind but in actuality was only about one hour before Nadia gave him the command to rise off her lap. He did so demurely; his tears had dried, but his eyes were still red. He was careful not to sit on more than his haunches as he rose; his ass still throbbed uncomfortably which brought a pout to his face to think about. He was too embarrassed to look her in the eyes as he sat rigidly awaiting her next command.

Nadia smirked feeling even more assured in her decision to keep him as she rose to leave. She and Moscov had discussed the parameters of this agreement deciding that instead of splitting the gold in half, she would get two bricks to his four, and Moscov would get at least one day with Steve to torture him in Yevn's name. Moscov had agreed not to maim, crush, break, dislocate, or scar Steve in any manner, and that he would send him to her by the time her plane was ready to leave tomorrow night. Nadia was happy with the deal, and Moscov stood to see her out as they continued to chat in Russian about the family business in general.

A whole new panic grew in Steve's gut as he watched Nadia leave. His eyes widened as he thought, 'I guess this is it. Now they are going to re-enact a scene from Goodfellas, and make me disappear.'

Several minutes later, Moscov re-entered his office, and Steve's face was like clay as he stared nervously at the man. Moscov regarded Steve curiously for a moment wondering what he would do to him in the twenty-four hours he had him for under these new special circumstances. He wanted to disembowel him, to slowly cut pieces off of him in small quantities throughout a week's time, to do something more violent and befitting his nature, but for Nadia's sake, he had to change his tactics. It was a challenge, but unlike Steve, Moscov had a lot of imagination and planned to make sure his punishments were comparably as mentally jarring as Nadia's had been.

Moscov snapped his fingers at Steve and motioned for him to get up. Steve gulped as he broke out in a nervous sweat doing as the man asked. He timidly watched the men working for Moscov as they stood staring at him menacingly with their arms folded. He'd half expected them to grab and start beating the crap out of him by now, but they remained motionless like statues which was unnerving in its own right. Moscov strode back to his desk and leaned against it as he smiled darkly at Steve and stated, "Nadia is quite talented at what she does, but I can assure you that we all have our talents in this family."

Steve wanted to faint at his foreboding words but remained standing only to shiver in response as Moscov continued, "You are afraid, as you should be. For what you have done, I am sure that you will be quite repentant before I am through with you."

Moscov reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter; he held it up for Steve to see as he said, "This will aide in helping you to remember your place as well as give you much time to reflect on why you have ended up in my care. Now strip."

Steve's heart skipped a beat as he glanced once more at Moscov's goons before slowly removing his shoes and jacket followed by the rest of his of clothing. He remained in his boxers giving Moscov an uncertain look hoping that the man would tell him he had stripped far enough, but from the impatient glare he received, Steve decided that was not the case. He discarded the last article now standing naked before them holding his boxers against him for cover as his mind raced wondering what the point of this current exposure would be.

Moscov looked to one of his men and nodded in Steve's direction. Taking his cue, the goon snatched the boxers from Steve's hands pushing him backwards with one hand before leaning down to pick up the rest of Steve's belongings from the floor. He gathered the clothes up and walked over to desk against the wall to grab a trash bag from within one of its drawers. Steve's pockets were emptied and the clothing and shoes dumped unceremoniously into the bag. Steve watched as the last bits of his belongings were gone through. The man who had grabbed his clothes had apparently admired his leather jacket, and from what Steve had gathered had asked Moscov if he could keep it. Moscov nodded that the goon was allowed, and he tried the jacket on adjusting it proudly and asking his counterpart what he thought of him in it.

It was just another reminder for Steve that nothing mattered anymore for him, and for the first time he wished there had been someone who would miss him. But there was no one. He'd spent the past ten years of his life carving out notch after notch to propel him further up the food chain. He'd gotten to his equivalent of the top enjoying looking down at all the people he'd left in his wake. He wasn't to be trusted, and in turn had never put his trust in another. Now all he felt was regret. The money really meant nothing, and he hadn't been able to see that before now.

Moscov pushed himself off of the desk and looking directly at Steve crooked a finger for him to follow him to the wall next to the couch. Steve did so nervously; Moscov held up the quarter between thumb and forefinger and placed it against the wall as he instructed, "I have work to do, but you will hold this quarter to the wall with your nose, and if I were you, I would not let it fall."

Steve stared at the quarter before turning a dumbfounded look at Moscov who lifted an eyebrow dangerously commenting, "I think I have explained myself well enough."

The hint was taken, and Steve moved forward to push his nose up against the quarter and the wall. He watched Moscov walk away through his peripheral and listened to him talk in Russian to his associates as he sat back down at his big desk moving around in the drawers and pulling out paperwork. Steve had wanted to touch the tender abused flesh Nadia had tortured, but no sooner than his hands had brushed up and down the scorched flesh once did he get the command from a mildly annoyed Moscov, "Keep your hands at your sides. I do not want to see you fidgeting." Steve let out a deflated sigh as he dropped his hands to his sides and thought about the fact this punishment was as humiliating as the spanking had been on a psychological level.

The first hour was excruciating; every sound was amplified, and every movement made throughout the room had Steve's body shivering in anticipation. Being naked added to this humiliation, as he had deduced was a selling point for his captors. He wondered what would happen to him if the quarter were to fall, but he definitely wasn't curious enough to find out. Steve had a feeling part of this punishment was the fact that he would eventually fail at the task and in turn receive what ever would follow his disobedience.

By the second hour his adrenaline that had been peaking on and off since he'd first lost sight of his gold and had went into overdrive upon being taken into the custody of the Russians was now crashing hard from the monotonous boredom he was experiencing. His legs ached, his fingers and toes had gone numb, and his nose was sweaty and itchy from being pressed against the quarter for so long. In an effort to relieve the itch, Steve tried moving the quarter around in a small circle. The sweat caused the quarter to inch down to the tip of his nose making Steve freeze in place eyes wide in fear that he had lost the grip he'd once had on the quarter. It was now dangling too low to keep hold of much longer; he was going to drop it. The only question now was when.

His heart pounded as he squashed his nose into the wall in a desperate attempt to keep the coin from falling; it slid down into the divot between his nose and upper lip hanging precariously and threatening to slip to either side of his face and go crashing down to the ground below.


	5. Delaying the Inevitable

The quarter remained in place for another five minutes before the inevitable fall. Steve watched its descent as if it were moving in slow motion; half of him wanted to jerk his hand forward to snatch the coin as it fell, and the other half of him decided pretending that the quarter had never fell in the first place was the better option. As the coin hit the floor and bounced harmlessly between his feet, Steve's eyes jerked back and forth as he listened intently to see if his captors had noticed.

Several painful minutes went by before he heard the men talking in Russian again. The conversation sounded casual and non-threatening, so Steve breathed a sigh of relief closing his eyes as his heartbeat went back to normal. Once the chat had ended, Steve heard the front door open and one of the men lumber out. Time ticked by as Steve continued to ponder what he was going to say when it was revealed that he had in fact dropped the quarter. He was tired of thinking about it by the time he heard the front door open again.

Steve's ears prickled as more foreign words were exchanged and the sound of a plastic bag was rustled through. He heard Moscov's chair swivel in his direction, and Steve's blood ran cold as the man spoke, "I do not appreciate deceit; and for this deceit I have a special punishment to accompany the discipline you are already set to receive."

Moscov uttered in Russian a quick command, and Steve was seized from the wall and roughly spun around and tossed over the arm of the leather sofa. Steve's immediate reaction was to twist his body up using his hands for leverage so he could speak in his defense. Knowing better than to rise off the couch where they had thrown him, he sputtered out, "Wait a minute! Please! There's got to be something I have that you want? I have the two gold bars I mentioned earlier, and I still have money in an offshore account! I can give it all to you! The account has close to a hundred thousand dollars cash, and the bricks are stashed at my house! It's all there for the taking. Just... just consider that before you do whatever you're planning on doing to me… please! We can work something out; can't we?"

Moscov had not left the confines of his chair. He sat grinning evilly at the pitiful pout played across Steve's face. He had a potato peeler in one hand and some strange looking vegetable that resembled a long skinny potato with several offshoots in the other. He began peeling methodically as he responded, "Your money means nothing to me, but your suffering? Ah, now that is where my true investment lies."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed in both fear and confusion as he watched Moscov peel the offshoots and layers of skin off of the knobby vegetable and into the plastic bag below. Moscov continued to smooth it out into a six inch wavy rod about the thickness of his thumb as he continued, "I see that you are interested in what I am doing; would you like me to explain?" Steve didn't, but Moscov went on to explain anyway, "You see; this little plant has a history. What is this history you might ask? I will tell you. It is called ginger root, and in Victorian times the root was used in horse sales to make an older horse seem young and spry. Of course our ancestors found other means to exploit its uses when applying it with discipline which you will soon see for yourself."

Steve felt faint watching in terrified fascination as Moscov meticulously peeled and shaped the root before his eyes. After several minutes, Moscov laid the peeler down on his desk and held out the freshly carved root for the closest man to him to take. Once taken, he handed Steve's belt, which had been placed on the edge of his desk, to his other man before reclining back once more to be an observer while his ideas were implemented for him.

Steve shuddered his eyes rolling up to the ceiling silently pitying himself. He had a pretty good idea why the root was shaped in such a manner and how it would be used on him especially in the position he was currently placed. As the thug closed in on him, Steve desperately whined out, "I'm sorry... I know I... I should have told you I dropped it, but... but..." he could no longer speak freezing in mid sentence as his whole body went rigid feeling the man holding the root spread his ass cheeks open to expose him thoroughly.

Steve let out a strangled cry thinking of what he was going to have to endure next. He was about to have this thing shoved in his ass, and he was just going to lay right here and take it. He wanted to fight, but he knew that it would just be worse for him if he didn't comply. Instead, he sucked in a hard breath bracing himself for the pain as he dropped his gaze in shame. Feeling what was to come would be bad enough without having a visual to accompany the memory.

The goon wasted no time roughly shoving the tip of the root into Steve's puckering entrance. Steve squealed at this new invasion his eyes scrunching in discomfort. Knowing it would hurt more otherwise, he tried not to tighten around the unforgiving object as it was pushed deeper into him. This was easier thought about than implemented. The root was thin enough around not to tear or stretch him, and unbeknownst to Steve, was a stipulation asked of from Nadia as she wanted to be sure he'd be considered a sellable virgin after he'd been properly trained.

Once the object was fully inserted into him, he gasped in shock; as if being penetrated wasn't bad enough; the root assaulted him further by eliciting a burning sensation to dance over his inner nerves. It didn't hurt, but it was very unsettling and uncomfortable making him tighten involuntarily demonstrating that the burn could become even more intense by doing so.

Steve didn't have a chance to ponder these new horrible sensations before he felt the excruciating pain of his belt strike across the lower half of his thighs. He squalled loudly as the belt continued to make its way up his ass. With each swat, he clenched in pain and the ginger root made sure to make its presence known. After a few dozen lashes of the belt hitting already abused flesh, Steve couldn't help darting his hand back to try and cover the damaged area as he begged for mercy, "Oh God! I can't! Please stop! Please!"

Moscov tsked, "Steve, I am certain Nadia already went through this with you. Can you have forgotten so quickly what disobedience will earn you?"

Steve sobbed, and not wanting to face more punishment, he reluctantly pulled his hand away cringing despairingly as he fought with all his being not to block with his hands or feet when the man wielding his belt continued his onslaught. The beating seemed timeless for Steve as he laid helplessly over the arm of the chair crying and praying for an end.

Moscov would have continued to whip Steve to death if he had not promised that he wouldn't irreparably mar Nadia's merchandise. The beating continued until Steve's ass and thighs had turned light shades of purple as Moscov told his man to stop the punishment before the skin was broken.

This whipping was far worse than Nadia's since the goon had a lot more power behind his swing, and Steve's ass was already so tender from the last two spankings he'd already received. An end did finally come, and by then, Steve had been reduced to a sniveling mess unable contain the sobs that poured uncontrollably out of him.

Satisfied with reducing Steve to such a state, Moscov casually rose from his chair to grab the fallen quarter off the ground. He circled back to stand beside Steve who was still unable to stop bawling into his hands.

Steve couldn't believe how much he hurt both physically and emotionally; he was breaking on more levels than he cared to understand. He had surpassed the level of caring what his torturers thought of his behavior any longer; he just wanted the pain to stop, and when it finally did, he had cracked even further as he was swallowed into his own helplessness.

Moscov waited patiently, and when Steve was finally able to calm himself enough that he would listen, Moscov stated, "Now that we have an understanding, let's try this exercise again. Stand up, and face the wall."

Steve shuddered as a fresh wave of tears flooded out of him and he wordlessly pushed himself off the couch and turned to face the wall. This time there was no question or hesitation when Moscov held the quarter up to the wall; tears still streaming down his face, Steve moved into place.

Moscov chuckled shaking his head as he remarked, "Nadia is right about you; you will play your role to a tee and hate every minute of it. Think of this experience as a taste of your future."


	6. A Change of Pace

Steve stared at the wall fading into his own private oblivion. He was veritably shell shocked from the sheer amount of torment he'd endured within the past five hours. On and off as the time would pass, his mind would drift over all of his discomforts both emotionally and physically and the tears that had dried would once more silently spill down his cheeks.

He didn't know how long he'd been standing in that same spot, but the sun had set, and Moscov had left for quite some time and come back as well as his men in separate intervals. As the last man to leave came back, Steve could hear the crinkling sounds of something being rummaged out of a paper bag and the familiar smell of a hamburger wafting through the air as the thugs opened their wrappers, ate, and talked in Russian amongst themselves. Steve's stomach growled in protest as it had been at least ten hours since he'd last eaten, and he was thirsty and dehydrated from all his crying. He thought about how standing here doing nothing at all caused him to notice every small twinge, ache, and need his body had. It reminded him of when he was in grade school watching the clock at the end of the day and how ten minutes seemed to stretch into an eternity.

Outside the concerns of his body and deprived of any other activity, his mind was left with little else to mull over other than his own mortality and the many events in his life that had ended him up in the position he was currently in. It was the uncertainty of it all that was the worst part, he didn't know whether waiting to die or living in fear of what he was going to have to suffer through next was more awful. These thoughts plagued him over and over like a broken record making him feel delirious with apprehension.

After finishing the junkyard's daily paperwork, Moscov had left Steve in his men's capable hands while he went to dine with business associates. He wasn't fully satisfied with the chastisement he'd given Steve, but he knew that most any other type of physical punishment he would have wanted to inflict might break the deal he'd made with Nadia, and he was, above all things, a man of his word. He knew he had left his mark, and he would have to settle for that level of torture and trust in Nadia to do the rest. And trust in her he did.

After Moscov had dined, he spoke to Nadia informing her that he had decided he would be giving Steve back earlier than anticipated depending on how long it took for him to acquire the remaining two bricks that Steve had supposedly stashed along with emptying his off shore account for good measure. Once Moscov had the bricks and account monies in his possession, he would deliver Steve to her, so she could fly home early if her business had been attended to.

Nadia had in fact finished her business within hours of her departure from Moscov's, and she had merely planned on going shopping while she'd waited for him to finish with Steve. Moscov arranged to contact her and have his men and Steve meet her at the family's private air strip once the goods had been obtained. She was pleased with the new arrangement ready to collect Steve and get back home to the Ukraine, where she could break him in.

Upon returning, Moscov sat down at his computer desk and checked his accumulated email messages. Once finished, he turned back to the main desk in the middle of his office and rolled over to it. He stated almost offhandedly, "Steve, come here."

Hearing Moscov address him, Steve snapped to attention rigidly as if waking from a dream. His sense of equilibrium faltered from the lengthy time he'd spent standing with his nose against the wall as pins and needles cascaded in waves down his legs. With trembling fingers, he grabbed the quarter from between his nose and the wall looking at it momentarily before clutching it tightly in his hand still inwardly afraid of letting it fall again as he weakly wobbled over to the desk to comply with Moscov's orders.

As he reached the desk, Moscov glared up at him and spat curtly, "I'm only going to ask this once, and I'm warning you, do not test my patience. What you have endured thus far is nothing compared to the devastation I can cause you. Do you understand?"

Steve nodded slowly as he cracked out a, "Yes sir," the terror stricken voice that left his lips, he hardly recognized.

Moscov continued flatly, "You say there are two more bricks yes?"

Steve's eyes widened, a slight glimmer of hope dancing in them, as he nodded quickly responding, "Yes, I can lead you to them. I..."

Moscov cut him off, "No. You will not, but you will write down instructions on where and how to retrieve them while we make arrangements to procure these side monies you've stated to possess. If you have not lied to me; I can promise you that your suffering at my hand will end."

Steve's heartbeat skipped a beat; Moscov's statement meant one of two things to Steve, either he would let him go after taking the last of his gold, or he would kill him after the fact. Either was better than the current ominous void of not knowing what his fate was to be. Feeling he had nothing left to lose, Steve asked hesitantly in both concern and morbid curiosity, "How do I know you won't just kill me afterwards?"

Moscov smiled coyly leaning back in his chair considering Steve thoughtfully before he responded, "You do not; but I can assure you, I am an honorable man that keeps his word. I will not kill you, but... if you are not ready to tell me where this hidden gold of yours is, we can explore many other persuasive measures that can loosen your tongue."

Steve did not want to find out what those other 'persuasive measures' could amount to and quickly stated, "I'll tell you anything you want to know if it means you won't kill me."

Moscov leaned forward replying, "If you tell me what I want to know, I can assure you that you will survive and be out of my care by morning." He muttered in Russian to one of his men to give Steve a plastic bag along with the garbage bag currently holding his belongings. The thug tossed the plastic bag into Steve's hands and dumped the trash bag at his feet as he grumbled dismissively, "You can remove the plant and get dressed."

Steve blushed at the reminder of his current state, but he was more than happy to oblige. The fact that Moscov was giving him his clothes back led Steve to believe that he might actually leave this place while still breathing. Although, deep down, he still had his doubts. The mob wasn't exactly known for being an epitome of honesty. Just being able to remove the ginger root and dress gave him more than a small fraction of his dignity back, which brought on another bout of shame for the realization of how much dignity he'd lost in the first place.

By the time Steve had finished dressing, Moscov had placed a pad of paper and a pen at the desk's edge. He motioned for Steve to take a seat in the chair beside the desk, and Steve followed his lead both glad to be able to give his aching legs a rest from the hours of standing motionless and hesitant to sit on his still very sore and swollen backside. After a moment of easing into his chair, he picked the pad and pen up and began to write out the sought after details Moscov had asked for.

Within an hour's time, Steve had written out explicit instructions. He'd stashed the two remaining gold bars in a downtown bus locker where he'd paid an attendant to keep the locker from getting the lock busted off. He was able to give Moscov the key. He always carried the key, so he could collect the bars in a moment's notice and get out of town. He may not have been much of a planner, but he did have a little backup insurance for getting out of dodge without leaving himself monetarily screwed if the shit really hit the fan. A lifetime walking in the shoes of a thief prepared him that much.

Once he'd finished writing and the man running for the bricks headed out to collect them, Moscov motioned to one of his men and Steve was tossed a paper bag with a left over burger in it and given a bottle of water to which he devoured both gratefully.

The bus station was quite a ways from the junkyard, so while they waited for Moscov's man to return with the bricks, Moscov called one of his top computer consultants. He specialized in hacking and had arrived within the hour. He was a short, spiky haired, kid in his mid twenties carrying a laptop.

He reminded Steve of Lyle. He wished it was Lyle. As the kid set up his laptop on Moscov's desk, Steve imagined Lyle making some stupid joke like he was famous for. The thought made him frown; Lyle, although a dork, was a good guy; he never would have gotten involved with people like Moscov. None of Steve's original crew would have messed with these kinds of people. That crew had been thieves with a moral compass or as much of a moral compass as one could have in this business. Why couldn't he have just stuck with them instead of betraying and screwing them over? He could have settled down and retired with a modest fortune… no use crying over spilled milk right? What's done was done. He'd dug his own grave… hopefully only figuratively.

It didn't take the hacker long to take care of Steve's offshore account. Steve had begrudgingly granted the hacker his passwords, and watched despairingly as all his money was transferred in small increments into new 'savings' accounts under several different people. It was all over and done within a half hour before the hacker was packing up and bidding Moscov farewell with a hearty handshake, disappearing as quickly as he'd come.

Steve would have to buy a new identity and start all over from scratch now. Not that he cared; at the moment, getting away from the Russian mob with his life was a much higher priority. Moscov put the pad and pen back in the desk and went back to flipping through files and pulling out paperwork completely ignoring Steve's presence.

Steve had done his part by willingly handing over what he had, and now only time would tell what Moscov would see fit to do with him, so Steve sat in silence growing more anxious as minute by long drawn out minute ticked by. He fidgeted and shifted in his chair, a pout plastered across his face as he thought about the fact he was just as uncomfortable sitting as he had been standing due to the layer of welts that now covered his ass.

Steve was both relieved and nervous to see Moscov's man returning from the bus station after acquiring his gold with no issues. Now that Moscov had his money and gold as promised, Steve knew he had nothing left to offer and was therefore worthless and exceedingly expendable.

Steve glanced up and down demurely as Moscov studied the two gold bars with a sparkling glint of interest reflecting in his eyes. When Steve could take the anxiety no longer he queried, "So... I did what you wanted. Are... are we square now?"

Moscov's smile grew into a terrible grin that shot a shiver up Steve's spine as he replied, "Square? Oh yes, we are, as you say square, and as promised, you'll be released from my charge."

Steve let a small smile crack across his features inwardly praising the fact that he had somehow managed to make it out of this horrible situation alive and amazingly intact. Feeling a bit more relived he responded with enthusiasm, "Believe me, this will be the last you'll ever see of..." he was cut off as a rag soaked in chloroform covered his mouth from behind. The struggle lasted only moments before the fumes took effect and Steve slumped over unconscious.


	7. Embarkment

(Okay, this chapter isn't as juicy as the following chapters, but the story must progress! ;)

A small mist had broken the normally arid Western sky as Nadia saw the Mercedes pull on to and barrel down the air strip towards her plane. Steve's unconscious form was unloaded from the back of the car and loaded in to an awaiting cage stored in a special compartment located on the bottom of the plane. It was going to be a long flight, and she didn't plan to have to worry about her cargo complaining and making the trip unnecessarily annoying.

Some would consider Nadia sadistic in the manner that she was in the slave trade market, but normally she did not relish her job on the level that she actually took joy in inflicting pain on her slaves. Slaves needed to be properly trained before they were either sold off or loaned out for a time before being returned their freedom. Most of her slaves were indentured or voluntary, and very few came into her hands unwillingly or at least not without it being their own choice whether through bad decisions making them owe the mob money or true masochists looking for an avenue into the twenty-four/seven lifestyle.

Steve was not the first to suffer such a fate of actual complete slavery; she had on rare occasions been privy to it happening before. Most were women with drug habits caught stealing from their gangster boyfriends or promiscuous and caught cheating on them which was equally as stupid in the underworld. Nadia had never felt sorry for them, but she had also never gone out of her way to give them any special attention either. Most true slaves were trained and sold to third world sultan harems to never be seen or heard of again. This was, however, the first time Nadia had ever had a personal investment in the matter making the task of training Steve delectably challenging for her. She would enjoy breaking him down before she sold him off to the highest bidder.

Steve's throat burned and his head swam with dizziness. His stomach lurched, and his eyes blinked in confusion as his mind tried to process exactly what had happened to him and where he currently was. His head was aching in a drug induced stupor as he groaned lifting his head up off of the floor to take in his surroundings. He was in a steel enforced cage with solid three inch thick bars and metal mesh crisscrossing wire in between the bars which made it impossible to stick his hands through. The floor of the cage was spacious enough to sprawl out length wise and width wise, but the ceiling of the cage only stood at about four feet tall. Steve deduced it was likely meant for transporting a big animal like a lion or tiger, and in this case him; 'But to where?' he pondered forebodingly.

The last thing he remembered was the iron-like grasp of one of Moscov's henchmen on his shoulder, his mouth and nose being covered by a rag covered in a potent fume which he could only guess was chloroform, and fighting the overwhelming need to float away into the darkness as Moscov watched on with moderate disinterest.

Where ever he was, he was moving, and it wasn't in a vehicle... A boat maybe? A plane? It was too smooth to be a boat, so it had to be a plane. His stomach did a flip-flop terrified of the thought of being brought out of the US. There were places in the world where there were no rules; too many places fit that particular venue. He had been in some of them, and he had seen the seedier and uglier sides or these countries where the police were paid to turn the other way while horrors and atrocities took place right in front of them.

A shiver went up Steve's spine as he scrunched up into a ball against the cold steel bars. He wished this was all a bad, horrible dream, and that maybe if he believed hard enough he would wake up in his bed it having all been a horrible nightmare ...but he knew that wasn't going to happen just as he knew his actions in life had led him to where he was now. He had to question if he deserved this; did anyone deserve this? All these thoughts had muddled his brain into an incoherent numbness, he was exhausted beyond belief, and the constant terror had only served to wear him out even further. He let his troubled thoughts drift away into a less than comfortable dreamless sleep as he was grateful for the small bit of solitude in the darkness.

"He is sleeping ma'am," Kristof notified Nadia as she sipped on her Chardonnay and lounged back in her seat.

She nodded her approval and stated, "Let him, and when he wakes inform me."

The man bowed his head and replied, "Certainly," before heading back the way he had come.

Steve remained unconscious for a good six hours only waking due to slight turbulence. His eyes tiredly assessed that he was still lying in a cage headed to only God knew where. He stretched his body out and rolled to his side instantly hissing at the forgotten welts covering his backside.

Within moments a florescent light showered through the darkness leaving speckled mesh shadows to dance down through the cage's roof as heavy footsteps approached. Through the cage's mesh lining, Steve could see an outline of what looked like high laced combat boots encompassing thick calves and leading upward to a very stocky heavyset man wearing a blue, black, and grey checkered flannel shirt and whose stance was quite intimidating. The man asked nicely in a heavy Russian accent, "You are awake. Would you like come out now for little time?"

Not sure what to make of this new person and what 'out' would entail, Steve hesitated before asking his own question, "What are you going to do with me?"

The man's chest rumbled with a small chuckle as he answered, "It is not I you must worry about little one. Now then, you come out. I let you use latrine. Yes?"

Steve hadn't thought about it until now, but once it was mentioned, he became conscious of the fact that he really did have to go. Even though the stranger's ominous words left him feeling a little uneasy to leave the confines of the cage, he didn't want to end up pissing himself later because he had refused to take the opportunity now, and so he muttered out, "Yeah, sure. I gotta pee like a racehorse."

As the man opened the door, he extended his hand down to him to help Steve stand. Steve looked at the large calloused hand warily; it was at least twice the size of his own he realized. Under normal circumstances, he would have scowled and refused any help, but with his recent treatment any benevolence bestowed upon him was gladly accepted. He grasped the man's meaty paw as he crawled forward to propel himself up to a standing position. Steve let go of his hand as his eyes traveled up to meet the other man's stare. Steve backed away a tad to regain a little personal space and mumbled out a soft, "Thanks."

The man smiled down at him standing a little more than half a head taller than Steve and twice as wide as he responded, "My name is Raphael. I am informed to take you upstairs after you taken care of. You will be good yes?"

Steve crooked an eyebrow at Raphael wanting to say something snide about the man's poorly broken English, but he bit his tongue and just nodded his compliance.

Raphael's mouth split to reveal a huge cheery grin that Steve relaxed under. The man seemed nice enough even with the burly woodsmen exterior with most of his face covered in a thick black beard and eyebrows that grew up the length of half of his forehead.

Raphael extended his hand forward in a gesture that told Steve to walk in the stated direction. Steve followed the command, and Raphael's other hand moved in to rest in between Steve's shoulders to guide him further.

Steve didn't like this new closeness Raphael had taken as his size was still quite intimidating, but Steve wasn't about to chance pissing the man off as he let Raphael lead him to the back of the plane where the restroom was located.

Steve noticed as they walked that there were several cages lining the right side of the plane with about five feet of spacing in between each one. There were a total of six, but from what he could tell, he was the only one that had currently occupied any of them.

He wasn't allowed any privacy, but that hadn't really shocked him. Raphael was nice enough to at least look away which was something. He washed his hands and with permission washed his face as well. The cool water felt good, like washing away some of his troubled thoughts that were predominating his mind. He was starting to feel like a human being again as he was led back down the corridor and up out of the cargo hold into the belly of the plane.

The cabin of the plane was quite posh decorated in fine white leather and fluffy beige shag carpeting. The walls were lined in a fine wood paneling and illuminated with small precisely placed lights that gave it a comfortable homey glow. The plane was well kept, but Steve could tell by the creases in the leather, it was also frequently used.

As he entered the room, he saw that there were five dangerous looking men playing cards in a C-shaped booth with a cloud of cigarette smoke engulfing them. They all stopped chatting and turned to glare menacingly at him as he passed into the second part of the cabin. He was glad the encounter was brief and hoped what was to come would be more pleasant, but he didn't have high hopes.

The second part of the cabin was more secular in its design with a green and white swirled marble table solidly set in the right corner of the room like a restaurant style nook with plush green leather cushioned seats. Along the wall was a bar lined with thick planks of walnut stained wood that was decorated with squared mirror flecks that reflected the ceiling's lights nicely. Across the top of the bar wine glasses were neatly hung, and below that sat an ice station, a sink, and a liquor cabinet. On the opposite end of the room was a set of four recliners set in a semi circle with an LCD projector placed behind the seats for either first class movie theater style viewing or giving PowerPoint presentations to business associates.

In one of the recliners sat Nadia holding a wine glass. Steve's blood ran cold and a small sweat broke out across his brow at the recognition. She smiled darkly at him and motioned to the table asking, "Would you like something to eat?"

Steve stood frozen for a moment as the previous terror he'd felt ran its course sending chills to cascade down his spine and the hair on the back of his neck to rise. He swiveled his head to look over to the table she had pointed to. On top of the table sat a set of silverware, a glass of ice water, and a dish with the contents hidden under a domed cover. A cloth napkin lay artistically draped across the middle of the cover giving it a classy touch.

The meal's aroma immediately assaulted his nostrils as it wafted in his direction; whatever was under that cover Steve assumed if the smell was any indication, it would be delicious, and his mouth watered as the burger he'd eaten earlier hadn't done much to fill him.

Steve's eyes drifted back to Nadia as he responded guardedly, "Yeah…"

Understanding why Steve would be cautious, Nadia stated casually, "Go sit down at the table and eat; it is a long flight."

The burning question that entered his mind at that moment was, 'A long flight to where?' but he didn't ask because the truth be told, he really didn't want to know. Wherever it was he was going, he was certain it wasn't any place he was going to want to be.


	8. No Man's Land

Steve quietly made his way over to the small marble table and eased himself gently into his seat thankful that it had a cushion as sitting was still a painful reminder and likely would be for at least a few days time. He glanced over cautiously at Nadia for instruction as he didn't know what to expect from this woman and the thought of getting his ass beat again was too abhorrent and terrifying to contemplate.

Nadia pleased with his willingness to satisfy her gave him a half nod for approval. She then turned towards Raphael and spoke to him in her native Russian. Steve gathered from the upward hand gesture Raphael gave her and her pointing towards the bar that she had asked him if he had wanted a drink to which Raphael had declined. Raphael lumbered over to the chair closest to the door and sat down beside her as they continued to converse.

Steve frowned as his eyes drifted back to the table to focus on the sweet smells that were coming from the dish in front of him; the constant flip between English to Russian was really starting to bother him. He wasn't fluent in any other languages, and it annoyed him when people would talk in another language around him because he always figured they were probably talking about him. His paranoia was accurate about half the time as Steve had a knack for pissing people off with his narcissism and overall bad attitude. But, 'his discomfort' didn't matter he thought begrudgingly as he sighed lifting the lid to his plate in need of a distraction.

Steam billowed out from under the lid to reveal chicken chunks covered in a creamy white sauce laid over a bed of linguini. There was a hint of basal, garlic, and oregano, and to the side of the pasta dish was a stack of broccoli and a healthy spoonful of carrots. Steve's mouth watered as he set the cover aside and picked up the utensils to dig in.

As Steve ate, he let his eyes dart around the cabin taking in his surroundings. There were no weapons in sight and no plausible items that he could use for a quick getaway being they were on a plane. He wasn't foolish enough to try anything too stupid; Steve was always cautious and innately a coward with a strong streak of self preservation, so he would bide his time for now and see what would benefit him best. The food was quite tasty, and he was surprised that he was being fed so well as his mind drifted to the thoughts of a 'last meal.' He shook his head at this contemplation, no, this wasn't a prison, and he doubted the Russian mafia would go through the trouble of being decent enough to afford him a last meal out of courtesy. He assumed it was likely prepared in advance and was meant for the other occupants of the plane, so he was just lucky by default. Either way, he was gratefully devouring it and before he realized it, it was gone.

Steve leaned back contentedly looking down at the now empty plate before taking a few gulps off of his glass of ice water and letting his eyes drift back over to Nadia and Raphael. Nadia's eyes casually glanced at him every now and again as she talked to Raphael, but she didn't engage in a conversation with him. It reminded him of childhood being at the table with grownups where you were ignored and expected to amuse yourself until told where you were going and what you were doing next. These thoughts darkened his mood considerably making him instantly annoyed by the treatment. It chipped away at his pride into a growing agitation that left a scowl on his face.

Nadia had noticed with amusement the pout that had grown into a deep frown on Steve's face as she asked him, "You do not look pleased Steve; was the food not to your liking?"

Steve's eyebrows shot up and his face went blank momentarily before softening into complacency as he responded quietly, "No, the food was fine." There was so much more he wanted to say, but that was all that he'd voice of his displeasure fearing the repercussions to follow if he'd stated how he truly felt.

Nadia was curious to find out what Moscov had done to him as he still seemed quite shaken and weary. She had examined his hands and face for any visible marks, which there were none other than dark circles under his eyes from lack of rest. This pleased her. Damaged goods were less likely to sell. The man was already in his early to mid thirties, so that would bring his price tag down. Although she already knew he was an unlikely candidate for being sold as a work slave since he was on the slight side with a small fragile looking frame. Luckily for her, he was attractive enough to counter balance his age, so he could be sold as a house slave or sexual toy, but from what she'd seen in him when they had first met, his attitude would be the biggest hurdle to overcome before he could be properly trained and sold.

Steve felt her eyes examining him, and he let his eyes dart in her direction acknowledging the fact that it wasn't in his mind before he quickly averted his eyes back in front of him to stare at his water glass eyes transfixing on his melting ice. He couldn't put his finger on it, but an unsettling tension began to burrow into him knowing from the glance he had taken and the way that she had been looking at him, she was going to finally speak to him, and he doubted it was anything he would want to hear.

Nadia stated simply, "Take your dishes to the sink; there is a bottle of detergent and a sponge in the cabinet beneath it. Clean them, and I will inspect them later. I'm certain you will not disappoint me."

Steve let out a discontented sigh; cleaning his own dishes wasn't a big deal, but being 'told' to clean them and that his work would be inspected afterwards was infuriating. He rose wordlessly and followed the implied directions curiously peering into the cabinet to see what other goodies could be accessed to his benefit. Nothing of consequence stood out to him, and he took his time losing himself in the task to mentally escape for a moment. It only took a few minutes to finish and place the clean dishware in the sink's strainer. He rung the sponge out and placed it next to the sink before turning around wiping his hands on his pants to dry them and staring at Nadia expectantly.

Nadia had watched him work; his hands moved quite deftly and precisely as true to a thief's nature. He stood stiffly, and when he had walked, she could tell he was sore but not limping. He would need tending to, but that could wait until they had arrived at the mansion. When he had turned to face her, she could see his defiance already churning behind his eyes. He would test her patience, of that she was certain, but for now he had been taught his place, and she was satisfied that he'd been fed and was not in need of any serious medical attention. Having seen what she wanted of him, she smiled at him and instructed Raphael, "Show my little pet back to his cage and give him a blanket and a pillow to make him comfortable for the remainder of our flight."

Raphael stood, and Steve propelled himself to walk in the direction of the door before being asked to follow. He looked at the ground as he passed her. His eyes squinted in anger and his jaw tightened as he mulled over being called her 'pet'; he was not anyone's belonging. At least he would be given a blanket and a pillow he thought optimistically before the pessimistic side told him that he'd get to enjoy them in 'his' cage.

Passing back through the way that they had come, Steve could feel the card player's eyes all on him, but he didn't look their way. He was lost in his own thoughts thinking about how Nadia's treatment of him was morphing into something different and what that could mean for him in the near future. He was more confused than anything and was looking forward to some more solitude to digest it all.

Raphael led him back to his cage, and Steve dropped to his knees to crawl in as the door shut followed by the lock clicking securely behind him to shroud him once more in meshed darkness. He felt like an animal as he listened intently to Raphael rummage around. Eventually, he brought him the promised pillow and blanket squatting down to give Steve a warm smile as he did so. Steve didn't smile back; he was in no mood for smiling and now that he was pretty sure for the moment he was no longer in threat of impending harm, he reverted back to his usual bad attitude snatching the pillow and blanket without a thank you and retreating to the back of his cage with a scowl.

Raphael didn't reprimand him only giving a small chuckle and stating something in Russian to himself as he refastened the door shut and lumbered back up the stairs and into the main hangar turning the lights off as he exited.

Steve watched him fade into the shadows, and once he was alone, he spread the comforter out laying it in half. He wriggled in between the haves pillow in tow and adjusted himself carefully to lie on his stomach as his mind drifted over the course of events that he'd recently endured. Two hours were spent mulling and worrying over what could happen to him next as he sunk into a pit of despair with the endless possibilities of the unknown. These thoughts tapered off as he breathed in the lavender scents of the comforter and pillow. They were incredibly soft high quality goose down which had him wondering from the quality of Nadia's belongings how much money she must have. If he could escape, some of her things would likely fetch a quick bit of cash. A full stomach alongside the stress he'd experienced made him want to sleep to forget himself for just a little while, and the comfy beddings helped aide him on that journey to a dreamless sleep.

The plane's descent roused Steve out of his sleep and he stretched and wiped his eyes as they adjusted to the dark. After touching down on the ground, his ears perked up as he listened to the plane's occupants unloading onto the airstrip. He was left alone for over an hour after they had landed, and his anxiety intensified the longer he waited. He heard the sound of a diesel engine pull up and then the bay doors released to reveal a crane like machine. Two men in gray flight suits boarded the plane from the outside and ushered the machine forward. Steve watched silently as the forks inched in slowly guided by the two men to slide securely into two slots on either side of his cage.

It occurred to Steve that the mesh wiring was so tightly woven that these men might not even know there was a human being inside verses some animal, so he shouted to them desperately in hopes that these men might be his ticket to freedom, "Hey! Hey! You gotta help me! I've been kidnapped!"

The men didn't pay him any mind other than to look through the mesh wiring with amusement and chuckle as they continued about their task of fastening the cage to the forks. Steve frowned as he looked outside of the plane's hatch to see more clearly where they would be unloading him. There was a flatbed backed up and waiting and once the cage was locked onto the forks, he was lifted up and out of the plane and deposited smoothly onto the bed's surface. He watched in dread as a tarp was then laid over the entirety of the cage and strapped down tightly to the bed of the truck.

Within minutes after the cage and tarp had been secured, the diesel engine revved and lurched forward slowly beginning to pick up speed before slowing down and turning right onto what Steve could tell was another paved road. He clutched his blanket back around himself feeling ill with trepidation of his final destination. Forty minutes later the truck pulled off the paved road onto what Steve assumed was gravel with a series of twists, turns, and a short stop. Steve could hear the driver speaking to someone before the clinking sound of a metal gate rolled open and the truck proceeded on its journey deeper down the road. Wherever they were taking him, it was secluded and obviously fortified.

After another five minutes, the truck rolled to a stop. The truck's door never opened, but Steve could hear the straps being loosened and the sound of feet hoping onto the platform with him before the tarp was chucked aside to let the noon day sun shine down upon him and the breeze cut through the mesh wiring. The lock on his door was popped, and his door swung swiftly open as a young blonde man, around the age of twenty-five, bent down to peer in at him and wave his hand impatiently in a rapid 'come here' motion. Steve's eyes shifted back and forth seeing several forms milling around just outside the cage, so he slid forward towards the man deciding that it would probably be best for the time being to comply.


	9. Expectations

It was colder here Steve acknowledged as he climbed out onto the flatbed stretching his back as he stood. His eyes traveled the expanse around him. The driveway was a huge oval; in the median rested a fountain with an elegant statue of a praying angel. Surrounding the fountain was a concrete circlet topped with off-gray marble slabs whose surface sparkled its pristine condition. Large circular cut maroon stones introduced from the driveway by ornate ivy laced trestle made a path to the benches placed in front of the fountain, and flowers decorated the outer ring of the median.

Steve turned in the other direction to face the house, no scratch that, the mansion. The place stood two stories tall and from what he could tell, it had to have at least thirty rooms with bay windows to give it an old-timely look. The archway extended out away from the front of the mansion and was held solid by thick white pillars. The same off-gray marble slabs were used in a cascading stair walkway that led from the driveway up to the front door. This of course was also decorated with flowers and plants that gave the mansion an air of aristocratic flavor.

He didn't have much more time to observe his surroundings as the blonde man snatched him by the arm and began to impatiently pull him over to two awaiting men on the ground. They were all quite buff, dressed in formal attire; their stance and no nonsense attitude reminded Steve of secret service men or at least what he'd met of ex-secret service men he'd hired as guards for his now nonexistent gold.

He hoped down off the bed of the truck, and no sooner than his feet touched the ground, steely hands were grasping a hold of his biceps. The two men began leading him towards the front door of the mansion, and Steve tried to remain calm, but all he felt was a growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

The men guiding him said nothing, and their stone cold glares never moved from facing straight forward as Steve's own eyes drank in all the details he could. The mansion had an extended entryway, and the door was a more than sturdy thick oak, the windows from what he could see were elongated down to the floor to let in the most sun; although what was inside was closed off to the outside world by thick curtains. He could tell the house was old, and he knew from experience that these old houses weren't easy to break into as they were usually pretty well put together, but the real question he was asking himself was, 'how easy are they to break out of?'

The door was opened before the trio had made it fully up the last leg of stairs by a man resembling the two leading Steve into the mansion; Steve could see from a glance the expansiveness of this place along with its immaculate condition. He hadn't realized, but his jaw had gone slack in awe of his surroundings. Stepping through the threshold, the foyer was an octagon whose ceiling was a delicate lattice of stained glass depicting a scene of doves carrying roses in their beaks across a pink and yellowed sky. Ivy grew up the pillars that formed the foundation of the room and delicately climbed across the ceiling on thin wooden trestles carefully aligned around the outskirts of the stained glass as a frame; the vines met in the center of the ceiling to escape into the outside world through a small hole letting in a ray of sunshine. The floor was a wide marble strip of the same off-gray coloring leading to the mansion's front entrance. The strip left the remainder of the room for plants, other decorative statues, and a wicker loveseat placed in the far right corner with a small glass table set beside it perfect for casual reading or just lounging.

The inner entrance was an elongated hallway with fifteen foot ceilings that arched like that of a cathedral. Finely painted tapestries hung from the walls as well as old European styled candle holders made of iron. Whoever had decorated had an eye for color and design as it all matched perfectly without being gaudy; the ten foot by twenty foot hallway branched out into a much wider main room that expanded half the length of the mansion. Here there were several options of directions to take as this seemed to be the hub of the household. A spiral staircase rose from the middle of the room to a balcony that lined the second story of the big room with white porcelain railings. There were exits leading to different sections of the mansion to the left and right, and forward led into a banquet hall.

Nadia stood leaning against the stair's banister smiling at him as he entered. It wasn't a warm inviting smile but rather a cold calculating smile that stated he would be in for more surprises soon. Steve's throat tightened when she came into his view, and it angered him deep down to his core that the very sight of her sent chills down his spine. He was hauled to a stop three feet in front of her, and she moved gracefully forward looking him over casually to check him for any homemade weapons he might have fashioned before stating nonchalantly to her men, "You may release him." She had been brought in to this profession young and had seen that even the most humbled slave could become a threat if not treated with care. She doubted that Steve was stupid enough to try anything fatal, but she was wise enough to never take chances.

The hands that had held him did as they were told releasing him. Steve rolled his shoulders in agitation and straightened himself so that he now stood fully erect. He was sore all over from the abuse he had endured alongside the long journey. He squinted hatefully between the two guards before focusing his eyes back onto Nadia. He was tired of being led around like a dog. The past forty-eight hours had been the most excruciating long and painful hours he'd had to suffer in all his life. His patience had grown thin as the pain began to dull leaving his defiant nature to surface once more. He stood staring at her with petulance painted across his face as he crossed his arms wrapping them tightly around him and waited in clear annoyance to hear what new instructions he was set to receive.

Her smile broadened at his very visually stated unhappiness. He reminded her of a spoiled child who had just been told he couldn't have his way. That attitude would change; she planned to personally make sure of it. Normally such a display of attitude would be cause for instant punishment, but for now being it was only his first day she decided to give him a small ounce of mercy. She stated simply, "As you have probably guessed, your old life is now gone. You belong to me, and you should be thankful you are still alive and without serious injury."

Steve's frown deepened as the facts he had already come to understand as truths were now being pointed out to him directly. Nadia continued, "While you are here, you will be expected to do as you are told and act in a cordial manner. If you do not do these things asked of you; you will be punished by my hand with a swiftness that will make your head spin. I do not suffer noncompliance lightly, this is your only warning, so wipe that sneer off of your face, and accept your place, or I will not hesitate to remind you of it. Do we have an understanding?"

Steve's eyes moved to the floor as her words pounded into him. He definitely didn't want to get punished again, so he painstakingly forced the sneer off his face which was more difficult than he'd anticipated as her words only made him that much more unhappy. He then nodded his acquiescence followed by a choked out, "Yeah."

Nadia's hand darted to his chin shifting it upwards so that his eyes were once more looking into hers as she reprimanded, "Not 'yeah.' Yes; I understand."

Steve's face paled seeing the fierceness in her eyes and instantly remembering his previous punishments at her hand he blurted out quickly, "Yes. I... I understand!"

Nadia's face softened by his quick reaction to snap out of his attitude. She was glad he wasn't that stupid to test her now as she really didn't feel like having to punish him so quickly after his arrival, but she doubted he'd make it through the night before once more needing to be reminded of where he stood.

She let out a soft aggravated sigh to let him know that he wasn't out of hot water yet as she instructed, "You will be taken care of here, and I will expect a level of neatness on your part. You will have daily chores and a strict regime that you will follow as I do not abide laziness. You will eat when I tell you to eat, be bathed when I tell you you'll be bathed, and go to bed when I tell you to go to bed."

As she talked, his eyebrows started to stitch together in despair as the situation he found himself in just seemed too unreal to comprehend actually happening. Sensing his grief she added, "All of this may sound overwhelming, but your life here doesn't have to be hell on Earth; if you comply with my wishes, you will be rewarded. You will also be groomed daily, your diet will be one of the healthiest, and any medical needs you have will be attended to with the top care available. Speaking of which, I want you examined fully to be sure you are fit for any purpose required of you."

She pointed down the hall on the left of the front entrance, "Come; once they are done with you, you'll be groomed, all your needs seen to, and set up in the quarters where you will be kept." She did not wait for him or look back as she walked rigidly down the hall her heels clicking a hard trail across the marble floor.

Steve took a quick glance at the men who were now watching him like a hawk with menacing grimaces plastered on their faces before reluctantly following Nadia down the hall.


	10. CheckUp

Steve's stomach was full of butterflies. What did she mean by making sure he was 'fit' for any purpose? Nadia was in the lead followed by Steve with her two guards side by side behind him to make sure he kept up the pace. The hallway held many solid oaken doors along their path; none were unique other than the fact they all locked from the outside; the locks were top notch only accessible with a punched in password and fingerprint identification.

Nadia had done her homework it seemed; Steve gathered the slave business was likely very lucrative to go through such pains and expense to keep them. This place was a veritable maximum security prison Steve noted as he examined that the ceilings also held mirror encased cameras to watch all the comings and goings on in the house and hidden enough to not cheapen the rest of mansion's appearance.

The four continued down the corridor turning left to walk the length of the mansion to a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Nadia punched in a code and hit a large push button which caused both doors to swing open into a medical examining room. Steve's blood ran cold as he looked around the room at all the various instruments and restraints hanging on the walls.

There were 4 beds along the wall, and he could see a woman in her mid twenties with Latino features, long black hair, and olive toned skin was sleeping fitfully in one of them. A tall beautiful Asian woman also in her twenties was leaning over the Latino woman's bed and writing something down on a clipboard. She had a lab coat on, so Steve presumed she must be a doctor of sorts. When she saw the four enter the room, she turned dutifully towards the group and gave Nadia a winning smile. The two crossed the floor meeting in the middle and exchanged a friendly hug.

The Asian woman asked, "Good afternoon Nadia; I trust your trip to the states went well?"

Nadia grinned quite happy to see her good friend as she replied, "Better than expected actually; I have someone for you to meet. Melanie," Nadia twisted to the side to give Melanie a view of Steve before continuing, "This here is Steve. You remember me briefing you on him at the airport? He's going to need an examination along with shots."

Melanie gave Steve a dark smile as she replied, "Welcome to your new home Steve. I trust by the time you leave my office we'll have gotten to know each other quite well."

Steve swallowed hard feeling a tad nervous as he asked, "Shots? Shots for what?"

Nadia frowned in mild agitation at Steve as she quipped, "You weren't given free rein to speak. From now on, you will ask permission before opening your mouth."

Melanie put a hand on Nadia's shoulder as she remarked, "Take it easy girl; he is new after all."

Nadia visibly relaxed under her friend's touch as she responded, "This one has been warned already, but yes, you are right. I am tired, and not in the right frame of mind to be dealing with new arrivals. I'm sure you can take it from here." Nadia leveled her eyes on Steve before continuing, "Let us hope that I will not need to see you again this evening."

Steve's eyes went wide as he thought disconcertingly, 'I sure as hell hope not! ...Bitch.'

Nadia turned back to Melanie one last time before departing, "I'll be in the East wing if you encounter any problems. When you're finished with him, perhaps you can join me for a Brandy?"

Melanie smiled knowingly and gave Nadia a nod as she responded, "I think I can manage that."

As Nadia left, Melanie turned back to Steve who looked as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She smiled at him with a warmness that Nadia lacked before telling him, "I give you permission to speak freely Steve as long as you can promise to behave yourself and do as you're instructed. Are we clear?"

Steve was surprised how fluently Melanie spoke English and only nodded as he studied her warily.

Again she smiled sweetly before gesturing to an examination table, "I'm going to need you to strip and climb up onto the table."

Steve glanced from Melanie back to the two men still standing vigilantly next to the door before letting go of a deep seeded sigh and proceeding to undress. It was embarrassing enough to have to strip down in front of Melanie with the very obvious marks left on his ass from the day before, and it was even worse to do so with Nadia's henchmen getting to witness it.

He kept telling himself that these people did this kind of thing for a living and likely saw similar situations on a daily basis and it shouldn't matter what they thought about him anyway because he had no choice in the matter of how he had been treated, but it did matter. His ego was such a huge part of his self image that even little instants such as this filled him with a loathing anger. He knew better than to express this anger by now though and just wordlessly undressed followed by carefully climbing on top of the cold steel examination table.

While Steve undressed, Melanie walked over to the cabinets against the wall and began pulling out various medical implements. Steve watched her in dreadful curiosity as she loaded up her nearby cart and rolled it over beside him. He was currently sitting in a slouched position on the edge of the table hands gripping the edge of the table tightly and body trembling slightly in anticipation.

She gave him a piteous smile before snapping a pair of gloves on and placing a stethoscope around her neck and adjusting the ear pieces to fit comfortably on her head. She moved over next to him and positioned the cold steel of the stethoscope against his chest instructing, "Take a deep breath."

Steve did so, and Melanie moved the instrument across his chest and back listening for any abnormalities. Upon finding none, she moved on with the examination having Steve stick out his tongue, checking his blood pressure, temperature, and taking blood samples for further lab work. All of this seemed routinely average to a normal doctor's visit, and when Melanie brought over a series of needles, Steve's nerves were set to rest when she told him that they were merely vaccines and inoculations standard for going to another country.

He didn't like needles, but the whole ordeal was said and done quite quickly. The last shot was a muscle shot, Melanie had saved it for last as the next part of the examination was the more unpleasant part, and it was much easier to have the patient already lying on their stomach.

Steve was not thrilled to hear where the shot would be injected and the size of said shot was intimidating on its own accord. "Can't you just stick it in my thigh?" He questioned hopefully as Melanie shook her head no.

"I need you to lay flat on your stomach for me please," Melanie instructed crisply.

Steve stared at her a long moment wondering if he could find a way to get out of this, but after a moment's careful consideration he decided that he liked Melanie's demeanor as it stood and really didn't want to anger her before she sunk that massive shot into his rear end.

He slowly slid back further on the table bringing his knees up on to its surface before rolling onto his stomach. Embarrassment flooded through him once more as he saw her looking over at his welts.

Her hand hovered a moment before gliding over his tender flesh, and Steve clenched reflexively prepared for pain. It didn't come much to his gratitude. She asked him, "I take it you've had quite a long trip?"

Steve didn't respond but rather just hung his head letting his eyes catch his reflection in the surface of the examination table. It looked how he felt, distorted and foggy.

Melanie did not demand an answer from him as she swabbed a particularly fleshy spot on Steve's bottom and picked up the shot. Steve immediately clenched as he saw her move forward with it sucking in a breath to prepare himself.

"You need to relax," Melanie warned.

Steve grumbled under his breath, "Easy for you to say."

Melanie knew it was going to hurt, but she also knew in order for the needle to penetrate and not break off in him she would have to get him to unclench, so she gave him a swift quick swat which caused Steve to clench then unclench as she assumed he would. Wasting no time she used this window to jab the needle in, inject the inoculation, and withdraw the needle quickly.

Steve of course squealed from both the swat and the needle prick turning to look at her incredulously as if she'd hit him upside the head with a two by four.

Melanie shrugged, "What? I told you to relax; you didn't, so I did what I know works. Besides, somehow I doubt it's the worst you've seen lately!"

Steve frowned at her bitterly before turning away sulkily.

Melanie gave the back of his head a smirk as she rolled her eyes at him. She was feeling in a particularly generous mood and pulled out some cold cream from one of the shelves on her cart and began applying the lotion across Steve's bottom and thighs.

Steve had grown rigid at Melanie's first point of application, but once he realized that the cream didn't burn and wasn't meant to hurt but rather to soothe, he visibly relaxed and let out a soft sigh. The cream did feel good, and Steve was happy that for once he was experiencing some form of compassion verses pain. It was a tad overwhelming as the thought settled in his brain that pain could and likely would become a very real part of his everyday life now.

His contemplation was interrupted as Melanie spoke, "That should make you feel a little better, and after you've been cleaned up, I'll have you brought back here for another application. But right now I need to do something a little less comfortable. I need you to slide down to the end of the table and let your feet touch the ground. Then I'm going to need you to spread your legs for me so I can check your prostate."

Steve's brow furrowed in disbelief that this was actually happening to him as he commented, "What? But... you don't have to do that... I'm healthy believe me!" It was a weak argument he knew, but if there was a shard of hope that he could talk her out of sticking her finger in him, he was going to try.

Melanie simply responded, "You might as well get used to the fact that it's going to happen. Now, I don't want to have to force this on you, but I will if you deem it to be necessary. I'm not going to have to go that route will I?"

Steve turned away again and pouted to himself a moment before slowly beginning to slide down the table until he was bent over its edge as Melanie had instructed. Spreading his legs apart was proving harder to bring himself to do, but Melanie waited patiently for him to comply.

Once Steve was in position, Melanie squeezed some gel on to her middle and index fingers before placing her other hand on the small of Steve's back to keep him in place. She didn't wait to see if he was ready bringing her gloved fingers up to his entrance to swirl the gel around in a quick circle to lube him before plunging both digits deeply in.

Steve had been expecting the intrusion, but it was still quite disagreeable, and he grunted in dismay clenching involuntarily on her fingers as she prodded him too thoroughly.

The examination only lasted about two minutes, but to Steve it felt like an eternity before Melanie finally retracted her fingers leaving him feeling rather violated and thankful it was over. She had put no emotion behind it remaining completely professional. Once she had finished she snapped the gloves off throwing them into a nearby wastebasket remarking, "You can get back up on the table now. See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Steve snorted incredulity lacing his words as he climbed back up on the table, "You've got to be kidding me?"

Melanie laughed, "Well, the worst part is over. And as far as I can tell you are indeed healthy both inside and out. I'm sure that whomever ends up getting you will be quite happy with their purchase."

Steve's brow crinkled worriedly as he asked, "You mean I'm not staying here?"

Melanie smiled sweetly at him and patted his knee as she responded, "Oh honey; no one stays here for too long. This place is the training grounds where you'll learn what is expected of you before you are sold to the highest bidder. Although, I think Nadia might keep you a little longer than the rest since she's expressed an extreme interest in training you personally."

Steve responded grouchily, "Great. I feel so special." He weighed this new information wondering what was going to be worse, staying here, or getting sold off like property. Neither was appealing, and he would just have to wait and see what the future held. As it stood, it was looking pretty bleak.


	11. Grooming

I know it's been literally years since I've posted an update for this story, and I'm sorry for that. Pregnancy threw my hormones for a loop, so it took awhile to get my head back in the game so to speak. Hope you enjoy the latest chapter and I plan to continue this one more frequently now ;)

The rest of the examination was a series of health questions asking if Steve had any family history of illness, sexually transmitted diseases, allergies, etc. Steve answered the questions finding it oddly funny that it was the closest thing to a normal conversation he'd had in the past two days minus the fact that he was still in the nude. He'd been told that he would be provided with new clothes after he had been properly groomed. Steve was quite curious what that would entail, and since it was his next stop, he wouldn't be kept wondering long.

Melanie bid Steve farewell before addressing his awaiting escorts, "When he's done being spoiled, bring him back here for another salve treatment boys."

The men simply nodded before one motioned Steve to follow him out another set of double doors on the opposite end of the infirmary he'd entered from.

Closing his eyes to collect his thoughts, Steve lurched forward well aware of his nakedness as his bare feet slapped the cold tile floor seemingly the only sound reverberating through the room now as he silently made his way through the double doors held open by his guards.

This hallway was not unlike the previous one entering the medical room except upon passing through the doorway Steve noticed another set of thick metal doors directly after the first that quickly refastened behind the trio as they passed the threshold. A mechanism sounding like an air lock clicked into place as the door sealed and a blinking light above the door flashed briefly to signify a triggering of some form of alarm being activated. The Carlson security company had nothing on these people Steve thought absently as they moved on.

The promising statement of being spoiled Steve had latched on to. He'd always been a creature of comfort and enjoyed being waited on; although something to look forward to in this horrible nightmare seemed almost implausible.

As they continued down the hall a disparaging sob coming from a few doors down could be heard. A feminine voice Steve could tell. Her cries rang in his ears sending goose bumps to cascade down his flesh. What had they done to her he wondered, and more predominantly he pondered, what are they going to do to me?

The guard in front of Steve held out a halting hand stopping in front of one of the many doors lining the walls punching in a key code and sliding his thumb over the print reader as the door lock released granting access to the room beyond.

Entering Steve saw four women with bowed heads sitting on their knees around what appeared to be a Jacuzzi styled tub. There were several stations depicting that of a professional salon experience. A chair for haircuts, a pedicure tub, a manicure desk, and a waxing table were all neatly arranged for single person service. Steve supposed the lady of the house looked so immaculate due to these girls' expertise.

The girls themselves were also well kept. Every hair looked deliberately placed and artistically fashioned into elegant braids. Their skin had a vibrant sheen, and their toes and fingers were painted neatly. As he entered the women rose from the floor and Steve paused to look at their perfect stance. Squared shoulders with feet placed together and hands at their sides; it reminded Steve of a military line up with much sexier uniforms.

They had no bras, instead they wore a chain halter that had a hole where the nipple protruded and four strands leading from this hole to fasten in such a way as to act as a bra and keep the breasts they held firmly in place without sacrificing the sight of them.

The bottoms were only two flaps of leather held on their waists by a single leather band leaving access to their unmentionables with but a lifting of a flap. As immodest as these outfits were, these women did not seem shamed by wearing them.

Steve's brow furrowed in agitation as one of the men tired of Steve's gawking pushed him roughly forward. He spun his head around to the intrusion as he spat, "Hey! Watch it!" Sensing the man was just looking for a reason to pummel him, Steve grumbled as he moved forward in the direction he'd been pushed. Two of the closest women moved to his sides each gently taking a wrist and leading him towards the bubbling tub.

Steve didn't resist intrigued with what would follow the scantily clad women. Stepping down into the hot waters was soothing, and Steve's aching body thrummed its acknowledgement of leisure to come. Steve's bottom was still quite sore, and the heated water reminded him of this as he took another step down into the deepest part of the pool.

Wordlessly the other two women not holding his wrists strode into the tub to reach into a side compartment opposite each other dragging out a chain with a leather strap attached to the end. At the sight of chains, Steve instantly became nervous, "Whoa, whoa sister, you don't have to chain me up or nothing. I'm down for a nice soak, no bondage necessary."

A worried expression took over her features as she turned to one of the guards. The guard pointed at the girl and stared at Steve crossly, "Do not fight! Let her put it on!"

Regaining a touch of his normal defiance, always one to hate taking orders from anyone, Steve squinted his eyes hatefully at the man giving him a deep scowl. Steve wanted to tell the man off with the finger, but he was not that bold instead responding agitatedly while holding out his wrist for the girl to fasten the cuff to, "Whatever; fine! Don't get your panties in a twist."

Moving quickly the girl cinched the leather strap on tightly, and the girl on his opposite side did the same while the other two women had submerged grabbing straps to attach to each ankle in the same fashion. Once all the cuffs had been attached a button next to the wall of the tub was depressed, and the slack of the chains began to recede back into the wall pulling Steve's extremities taut leaving him quite immobile.

Steve's heart began to race now feeling quite vulnerable as the ladies moved to the sides of the tub to grab their wash clothes applying a bath gel to them and scrubbing at him vigorously. Steve complained, "Ow! God damn it! Are you trying to scrub my skin off?" There was no response as the women continued their task washing every inch of him.

Steve stiffened when one of the women moved to his groin and even started to get a slight hard-on watching her breasts bouncing in the water as she washed him, but that enjoyment was killed swiftly feeling the girl behind him sticking her finger inside of him. He squeaked a shrill protest, but being chained with his legs spread, all he could do to resist was clench internally around the invasive finger which only made the ordeal uncomfortable for him without impeding her ability to do what she was doing even slightly. Why did any form of happiness have to be robbed from him he thought sulkily.

Thankfully the intrusion only lasted a minute before she moved on to another area. The whole process took about ten minutes, but by the time the girls had finished with him, Steve could swear he'd never felt more clean although he'd have been happier to not smell like whatever fruity smelling soap they had bathed him with.

Once finished bathing him, the cuffs were removed and the chains were depressed back into their compartments. He was led out of the pool and toweled dry. Moving along the circuit, Steve did in fact enjoy the pedicure and manicure as well as the haircut. These women were through and super precise in everything they did!

Waxing on the other hand was a whole other ordeal of pain he realized and took a monumental amount of time to complete even after being strapped down immobile to the table. It started off as just highly uncomfortable when they started waxing his face and excruciating when they made their way down to his genitals. Thankfully his chest wasn't hairy and they only needed to wax his nipples, but all in all, Steve had squalled and cursed throughout the process levying all forms of insults on the ever silent and diligent women tending to him. One of them growing tired of his complaints slapped a hot towel over his face to muffle him eliciting a titter of laughter among the other women. Steve was offended but took the hint knowing there wasn't anything he could do to stop them settling for grumbling to himself and yelling obnoxiously every time they pulled another stripping of wax paper off his skin and wondering why the hell anyone would willing choose to do this to themselves.

Once they had finished the waxing process, he was unstrapped and lotion was applied vigorously through a massage. This became Steve's favorite part of the whole experience unable to prevent letting little moans of pleasure escape his lips as he actually relaxed. He realized it was the first time he'd really done so in a long time. His protesting muscles cramped as the ladies dug fingers into them. Having all four of them massaging him at one time created a sensory overload to which Steve's body had no choice but to shut down and unwind under the multiple stimulations. Thankfully the women were gentle in the welted areas careful not to press too hard. Steve sensed they may have pitied him in this, and he was suddenly glad that none of them spoke.

He had almost fallen asleep when they had finished and pulled him up by grabbing his wrists to help him rise. Steve followed their lead that he was done with this portion of the grooming process sliding off of the table gingerly. One of the women then went to a side cabinet seeming to size him up in a glance and bring a similar styled bottom to what they wore presenting it to him to take.

Steve stared incredulously at it before taking it and holding the material out in front of him, "You've got to be kidding me!" he growled his distaste that he'd actually be expected to wear a loin cloth, but at least it was something he thought miserably as he donned the article feeling rather silly to be wearing it and instantly aware that even having it on, he still felt pretty much naked. He supposed that was a selling point for the outfit, easy access.


	12. Hello Nurse

As Melanie had asked, Steve was returned to her for a second application of the salve. She clapped her hands at the sight of him as she chirped, "Oh look at you all spiffy now!"

Steve was torn between wanting to take the compliment and being put off that she didn't think he looked just fine before. He just shrugged commenting, "Yeah, spiffy. Being turned into a human doll is what I always wanted."

Melanie rolled her eyes giving him a sideways smirk as she slapped her table indicating for him to climb up, "Okay Mr. Grumpy. I figured your spa trip would have put you in a better mood."

Steve huffed moving over to where Melanie had indicated feeling embarrassed to have been brought back here to tend his bruised bottom, "It's going to take a lot more than that to put me in a better mood. A good strong shot for starters followed by another twenty."

As he climbed gingerly on the table, Melanie retrieved the balm shaking and squirting a glob of it into her hand, "Well, I can't really help you with that request. They try to keep your diets very specific to keep you fit, and sadly for you, that won't include any alcohol."

Steve settled onto the table and growled is displeasure, "Of course… let me guess, I'm only going to get to eat rabbit food from here on out?"

Laughing Melanie responded, "No, I wouldn't say that. You know this place isn't as bad as you might think."

It was Steve's turn to roll his eyes, "Whatever. Looks like a gilded cage to me."

Melanie moved to Steve's side swiftly swiping the back half of his bottoms up to which Steve tensed immediately but relaxed when Melanie's hand coated his flesh in the cold cream moving in slow deliberate circles. She didn't respond, and Steve for his part mentally followed her hand but didn't look back to see it being applied.

It felt good on the still swollen flesh, and it upset him that this was a note of kindness on her part that still left him feeling incredibly humiliated. Surely she had to know this place was no paradise? The fact that she worked here meant she was okay with them torturing him, and Steve scowled taking solace in renewing his hate for this place and any of its occupants.

Sensing Steve tensing as she applied the lotion, Melanie asked, "Too hard?"

Snapping back into the conversation Steve glanced at her a moment before turning away and answering, "Uh… no. I mean, what's it really matter to you anyway, isn't hurting me kind of the point of this place?"

Melanie stopped working in the lotion and moved around to sit in front of him trundling forward to inches from his face on one of her rolling examination chairs. She took in a deep breath considering the man before her before asking curiously, "You're not overly diplomatic are you?"

Steve picked his head up from the table staring at her as confusion mixed with exasperation painted his features, "What the hell is that supposed to me?"

She leaned back in her seat crossing her legs, "Well, it means I'm trying to be nice to you, and you are acting like a big fat jerk to me. Not exactly the best way to get flies with vinegar and all."

Steve's scowl deepened, "Well I'm sorry I'm not overly thankful for being told that I've got to look forward to being that bi…." he paused mid-sentence realizing his word choices might not be the best to say to a woman whom was obviously close to his new torturer. He looked down once more after seeing the intense stare Melanie was giving him shrugging, "It doesn't really matter what I feel, I'm not my own man anymore. You people have stripped me of everything... I literally have nothing left. You can't take anything else from me. Why the hell should I be grateful for anything you give me?"

Melanie sighed, "Oh Steve. You've got a hard road ahead of you I can tell. I can only say this, you live, and as long as you have tomorrow to look forward to, there is always something to be thankful for."

Steve huffed, "Yeah, I'll try to remember your poetic words the next time they find a reason to brutalize me." Tired of their conversation he spat, "Are we done now?"

Melanie rose and nodded. Steve pushed himself off the table with a small hop so as not to make contact with the bruised flesh he sported. He begrudgingly pulled the cloth back over his bottom quickly and stood rigidly awaiting where they'd take him to next.

Seeing they were finished one of the guards snapped his fingers to get Steve's attention as he pointed to go back in the direction they'd just left.

Steve followed wordlessly feeling a bit more vindicated that he'd been able to unburden some of his aggression on the nurse and let a small portion of the fear that bubbled up in his chest at what was really happening to him go. As they traced back down the hallway, Steve felt like he was walking in a haze.

He was stopped abruptly in front of one of the many doors they'd passed previously. The guard barked, "Stop here," before unlocking the door and opening it wide. Steve peered inside to see a small cubical with foam covered walls and a simple mattress on the floor. Lights illuminated from the ceiling, but there were no fixtures accessible and no windows. Steve took in the room carefully his stomach churning uncomfortably as his gaze lifted to the beefy man holding the door open.

"Get inside now!" The man commanded roughly, and before Steve could react the other man behind him gave a sharp shove between his shoulder blades rocketing Steve forward into the room. He hadn't even had the chance to turn around fully before the door slammed shut air locking in their retreat.

Running up to the door Steve's heart raced as he felt around the edges of the door trying to rip at the foam and find some form of purchase to grab a hold of, nothing. Searching around the room frantically, he flipped the mattress up feeling there was no springs in it. The whole room was devoid of anything but foam.

Sinking to his knees Steve's breath hitched as he began to cry terrified and exhausted beyond belief. He didn't want to see tomorrow he thought sorrowfully, and he certainly wasn't thankful there would be one at this rate.


End file.
